


The Darkest Hour

by Dusty



Series: Conversations In The Car [4]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Companionable Snark, F/M, Implied D/s, Implied Relationships, Melancholy, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 15:11:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty/pseuds/Dusty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the quiet of the car, James and M are alone with their thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Darkest Hour

The road unravelled before him. His heart was thumping – it felt as if it could be powering the car by itself. Coffee and adrenaline.

He glanced over at her. She certainly appeared to be asleep again. He couldn’t have her anywhere else. The dread he experience when he realised Silva was going after M felt as if his blood had turned to acid. And now the Chief of MI6 was next to him, in his car. It occurred to him briefly that he’d really better not screw this up. Kidnapping M may not be looked on too favourably. Then he remembered Silva. That manic determination. This was no game. He gripped the steering wheel, driving more or less straight, and felt the accelerator beneath his foot, speed more or less constant. All he had to do was drive. But he felt overwhelmingly that this was one of the most critical jobs he’d ever had, that everything was at stake. And his cargo was the most precious thing in the world.

\---

She couldn’t sleep of course. Not because she didn’t trust him. But because she knew how rare these moments were. She’d never spent such a continuous amount of time with Bond. Her stomach twisted as she understood that even so, she had probably spent more time with him than with her own children of late. She thought of them now. The news would be everywhere. Tony had called following a spate of bad press after the computer drive was stolen to see if she was okay. Nothing from Sophie. And now both of them would find out via the news. Perhaps Tanner would have thought to contact them.

She tried to put it out of her mind. She knew she was in good hands. But it had been some time since she was in the field. All the more reason to get some rest, she told herself. But it wouldn’t come, and at that moment, she couldn’t remember ever feeling safer.

She half opened her eyes and looked across at him. Jaw clenching, mouth in a pout, eyes intent, lost in his thoughts. She allowed herself the luxury of studying him. He was _her_ agent. She’d demonstrated her faith in him time and time again. Was this karma in action? The son rescuing the mother?

Her thoughts drifted to Tiago. She’d invested the same in him once, but allowed herself to display so much more. It came naturally to her to nurture these young men who were risking their lives. Tiago had been so brilliant. He’d taken her breath away. And she’d been foolish enough to let him see that. An intimacy she should never have allowed. A love that dare not speak its name. He was forgiven so much because even in crime, he was artful. He broke the rules, and she should have stopped him. But he broke them so cleverly that no one but her ever knew, and that was only because he confessed to her, longing for her to appreciate his skill, begging her to save him from himself.

He did his job, and the two of them had their secrets about just how he was doing it. She hadn’t known how far he would take it – it seemed like just a game back then. This tall, brilliant international man of mystery was all hers. Hers to lead, hers to groom, hers to discipline. Hers to appreciate. She assumed as soon as he got bored he’d disappear off and try to run rings around the next pushover. She’d had no idea how addicted he’d become. He’d needed a mother figure above all things, and she’d been fuelling that.

Acting out for attention was one thing. Brazenly breaking international law was another. She’d been so full of rage. She’d trusted him ultimately to act within correct parameters in his work. But Tiago was too clever, too brilliant, too concerned with showing her what he could do to notice when he was crossing the lines. He was too in love with her.

Such betrayal. She’d raised him to do a job – everything else was incidental, unintentional. Why couldn’t he respect that? She should have concealed her regard for him, not entertained his little games. It surely must have encouraged him. But he crossed that line, and that was that. He forced her hand. And in the name of duty, she’d killed him.

A tear slipped out of her eye, but she didn’t move. She didn’t want Bond to know she was awake. She embraced the memory of Tiago Rodriguez, the man before he became the monster. She flashed back to the creature in the cell. How he gazed at her. What they’d created together.

She shifted in her seat and James noticed. She thought about feigning sleep for a bit longer but her thoughts had wakened her more than ever.

\---

“That’s enough sleep,” she said quietly. “Now tell me what he did to you. What did he say?”

James frowned. He’d been thinking about food and other provisions that almost certainly wouldn’t be waiting for them at Skyfall. He didn’t particularly want to hash over what had happened.

“Nothing much,” he said. “He tied me to a chair, gave me a speech about rats turning on each other, told me you’re a heartless bitch, tried to seduce me, shot his girlfriend for fun and then we caught him.”

“He tried to seduce you?” asked M, incredulous.

“As a technique, trying to spook me.”

“Did it?”

“Of course not,” said James, almost offended. “I’ve been threatened with worse things in my time.”

He shot a look at her, eyes dancing. She smiled in response.

“Anyway, he didn’t convince me,” added James.

M raised an eyebrow. “So you don’t think I’m a heartless bitch?”

“No, I know you’re a heartless bitch,” said James casually. “But I also know when I’m sitting opposite a complete madman and the bitch in question has the security of a whole country to consider.”

M chuckled in spite of herself. “I’m still going to have you flogged, OO7.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said James, sounding bored.

Quiet filled the car once more. M bit her lip. “He wasn’t always a madman. I thought I was giving him what he needed. But I wasn’t. I was giving him what he wanted, and what I wanted.”

James tensed. This wasn’t really a confession he felt very comfortable with. What exactly was she saying? “You don’t have to tell me anything, ma’am.”

“I know,” she cut him off. “I made mistakes with him. He took things too personally and reacted against it. Couldn’t keep a professional head on his shoulders. The more I intervened, the more it enabled him.”

“So you had to sour the milk?” asked James.

“Yes, thank you for that sterling choice of words, OO7.”

There was a prolonged pregnant pause. James felt flattered and humbled that she’d at least attempted to share this information with him. But he couldn’t quite understand what she was trying to tell him. He decided to bite the bullet – hell they were running for their lives and they’d already had several arguments, not to mention the swat which he could still feel in his thigh. He braced himself for all eventualities and asked her.

“Were you lovers?”

He immediately hated himself. Why did he ask? He really didn’t want to know. And now she would probably beat him to death.

No rebuke came, just a long, slow exhale.

“Yes,” she said. “I suppose we were. I didn’t know it at the time, but looking back I think that’s exactly what we were.”

James was now officially more confused than ever. “I don’t understand. Were you sleeping with him or not?”

“Oh for goodness’ sake, James!” she said, exasperated. “There’s more than one way of loving someone. So many different ways to demonstrate love, to connect to someone, to share intimacy, other than just fucking each other into the mattress.”

James felt his face burn with mortification. To be lectured on the art of love by M was more than he could handle. He thought about pulling over for some fresh air.

“Oh get your shit together, Bond,” chided M, noticing his discomfort. “It’s not my fault if you restrict yourself to the latter.”

That provoked some anger in him which completely trumped the embarrassment. He gave her his best ‘commander’ glare. “With respect, ma’am, you are not in a position to judge at this current time.”

He was impressed that she actually coloured and hung her head. “You’re quite right, Bond. I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I just hoped you’d understand.”

“I do,” he said quickly and sincerely. “Maybe not in detail, but I do understand.”

Just like that, the car seemed so much lighter, seemed to travel so much faster.

“Thank you,” she breathed. She relaxed into her seat. Somewhere ahead of them, the dark sky gave way to thin streaks of light. Not long now.


End file.
